Perfection
by Dialux
Summary: Mai has always been just a little broken. But loving and living with the Fire Lord's family is not only like playing with fire- it is being burned by it. What damage can a young woman hold, when she is quiet? Fourth in the Fire Lady Series


Mai is seven when she understands the truth about her life.

Her mother is barren; eight miscarriages, three stillborn, and one living child is too much trauma on any body. And her mother is not too strong herself- she married Mai's father because her family wished an alliance, not because of any love. Slender, pale, sickly; she is all those things and more, and Mai's own status in the family is diminishing with every breath her mother breathes.

After all, her father can hardly insult her mother's family with a divorce, but he also wants a son, desperately.

She can see it in his eyes, the manic fervor when they go to court, fury and regret bubbling up like a stove's hot fire. She can see it in his hands, smooth and elegant- a nobleman's hands- when he refuses to touch her, for fear that bad luck will rub off her childish black-edged blood robes. She can see it in his body, that he wants and wants and wants, but he'll never have the heir he deserves.

Mai's mother might be thin and sick, but she's kind. Her eyes are sad, always- but they never hold anything but love when she looks at her daughter. Her hands are worn, calluses formed from a childhood of throwing shuriken like a proper daughter of a Warden of Boiling Rock. And her body just protects, wraps around Mai like a warm cloak in the middle of winter.

* * *

><p>It is during a formal dinner that Mai realizes something is wrong; she tugs on her mom's sleeve and asks her quietly, why they are not sitting with Father on the raised dais. It is an insult, subtle and digging, and Mai doesn't <em>understand.<em>

Bitterness wells over her mother's lips, and it shakes something that had once been a cornerstone to her life. Her mother doesn't love her father. And her father…

He _hates _her mother.

Later that night, her mother presses shuriken into Mai's hands, and whispers, quieter than a messenger hawk's flight, "I will teach you."

And she does.

Mai learns how to throw stars under her mother's guidance, and it is _exhilarating. _Each move, controlled- each breath poised; each thought perfect.

"It is like a master calligrapher," Mai's mother says softly, watching her daughter become a warrior. "Where each drop of ink, each stroke of a brush, must be _perfect. _Everything has a purpose, and when you wield shuriken each movement is like that. Benders attack and defend, use movements to power their chi and lift things not of their own. Star-throwers… we don't. Every movement controlled, no more than needed, and no less than required. We, Mai, are _perfection."_

Mai, small but smart, understands that this is very important. She nods carefully, committing her mother's words to memory.

_Perfection._

* * *

><p>Mai is supposed to be perfect.<p>

Her mother watches sadly as she struggles with the weight of her father's expectations; there are many times when she feels herself buckle under the strain. Then, she remembers her mother's words- "_we are perfection," _and strength comes back where strength was never before.

She schools herself to look bored and calm, and so she doesn't cry when her mother is diagnosed with pain-bones; instead she holds her mother's hands and remains as steadfastly neutral as a princess. Later that day, her father throws a feast, and she sees the way he embraces a beautiful girl at his side; it is only when she sees his sidelong, sly glance at her mother that she understands that he _knows._

Fury, abrupt and terrifying fills her.

All she wants is to rend her father apart; tear his throat open with the knives hidden under her sleeves. Just before she moves, though, her mother's hand lands on her shoulder.

"No, Mai," she says quietly, directing her back to the seat.

"But-" Mai is sputtering with rage, incandescent helplessness thrumming through her. "He- He just!"

Her mother nods, well-worn bitterness sliding away in favor of comforting her daughter. "Your father never loved me. At least… At the very least he is truthful about that."

Mai's mother cannot help the way her eyes travel to the Fire Lord's second son- Ozai.

Rumor has it that, though he never cheats on his wife, he never loved her either.

And it is not like she did not know that this would be her lot in life. Love, adoration… even respect weren't- _aren't- _common things in their society. Women bend to their men's commands; only in the army did they have a hope of equality. In court- it is a hopeless battle.

Her husband has a new concubine; she can see that much in the sly upturn of his gaze. Why he thinks it will hurt her- she doesn't know. But she can see the way the girl's cloth is brilliant scarlet; the color of a morning flame, while hers are faded at best and patchy at worst. Mai's are better quality; for all that she represents everything he hates in her, she is still his child. She will not be clothed poorly.

Wrapping her arms around her daughter, she whispers, "Calm yourself, love."

Mai's voice is broken, like shards of stone, or bone, or hopeless dreams. "Is that going to be me, someday?"

"No." Her voice is sure in this, if nothing else. Strength laces it up into barbed wire and a fence; she will protect her daughter from what she can for as long as possible. "Never, Mai."

And her strong, beautiful, _brave _daughter bites back tears and looks out at the assembled court like it is a poisoned rat-weevil trap.

"Someday," Mai murmurs, just loud enough to be heard, "These people will bend to me."

* * *

><p>Mai holds her mother's hand through the last week of her life.<p>

Her mother's grip, which had once been soft and light, is tighter now; death has strengthened her where it should have weakened. Fear holds her still, and Mai can only sit beside her and watch, as her mother fades before her eyes.

It is the witching hour; it is the time when all is dead or asleep; it is the time when fires burn low and neither moon nor sun shine in the sky. That is when Mai's mother feels Koh's unyielding grip on her soul, and she bows her head gently.

She has fought and fought for the betterment of her daughter. Her bow has been taken; her future chosen. She will not beat at a closed curtain, will not waste the last, precious moments of her life struggling and mourning for _whatcouldhavebeen._

Slowly, she rises on her elbows; presses death-cold fingers to her daughter's cheek. Mai startles out of the deep slumber she's finally succumbed to, and in the half-lit twilight she can see the child Mai once was- the careless beauty that she has trained out of her with weapons and words. Then Mai's face hardens, and she can see the woman she will one day become.

"You are beautiful, Mai." She croaks, so quiet she thinks her daughter hasn't heard. Then, Mai stirs, and hope flutters in her breast once more. "Never, ever let anyone make you believe otherwise.

"You throw stars. You hold the universe in your belly, and the world in your heart." Eyes lock, dragon-gold to dying ember. "You, my daughter, are perfect."

Pain seizes her across her neck, like a dragon's toothed grip on its young. "Perfect," she whispers, once more, in that half-hazed dawn between worlds. Everything fades, then, between one breath and the next, and the last thing she feels of the mortal world is a tear from her daughter's face.

_How poetic, _she muses quietly. _That it is only on my death that I see my daughter cry…_

* * *

><p>Mai kneels before her father, quietly seething.<p>

He has a beautiful woman beside him, draped in the latest fashions and prettier than her mother ever was. But still- couldn't he have the decency to mourn his wife for a few days, before parading his next one in front of the world?

And this one isn't kind.

Mai can read the haughty snobbishness of a pampered courtesan in her body; the woman's eyes trail to another woman a few yards away, that can only be her sister.

_And that woman has sons. _Mai sees, with a deep-growing unease. _No wonder Father wants her._

Mai's mother has made her the warrior she could never be. Mai won't let that go to waste.

Knives slide, almost of their own accord, into her palms. The bands that hold them tight are slick with sweat, and she wants nothing more than to tear her father's throat open; slice his beautiful wife to pieces under her stars.

It is not a week later that she is ordered to go to the Fire Nation Academy for Girls.

Her father didn't even care enough to come himself, and Mai cannot forgive him his petty lies and uncaring attitude. Deep inside, she weeps for her mother.

Outside, she rebuffs her father's wife with a level gaze and a scorn that is not out of place in court.

_Let me show you what a _real _noblewoman does._

* * *

><p>Princess Azula dances like the wind.<p>

She flares and bends just like it; Mai is in such awe of her blue flames that she comes closer to finding out the Princess' secret than anyone else.

Mai is a watcher.

And Azula… Azula is used to just_ slipping_ by. Her moves are similar to firebending, but not the same. Her hands twist just an angle more, and her head sways to the side a touch too little. When confronted, though, nothing of rage or fear touches her face, only confusion.

She tilts her head, says arrogantly, "I am a Master. This… lessens… the amount of energy needed for bending the same heat and flame." Her eyes are hard, but Mai sees a hint of wary reserve there.

When she walks away, Mai's eyes narrow. The Princess is hiding something. Mai wants to know what.

She can see Azula's eyes, watching her throughout the next few weeks, and she doesn't show her realization. But she can't resist scratching a flame-crown on the seat where the Princess sits with her dullest knife; arrogant pride has killed more of the Fire Nation than wars can ever hope for. She is courting disaster and flame, and _she doesn't care._

The next day, an invitation to the palace comes.

When she arrives, the servants scatter out of the way, like turtle-ducks before an enemy, and she marvels at the Princess' power. Then she sees one woman's fire-scarred arm, three characters seared deep into the skin:

_Az-u-la_

Suddenly, she wonders whether courting the Fire Nation royal family is such a good idea. But she presses her lips together; she has come too far to back out now.

Each step towards the door feels like she is walking to her doom.

* * *

><p>Ty Lee is brilliant, a bouncing ball of cheeriness that balances Mai's cutting demeanor and Azula's fiery temper. She swings back and forth; binds the three of them in strings that are as ephemeral as they are eternal. Mai, sometimes, slides the edge of her shuriken against her wrist, admiring the glittering glow of it against the hollow bones in the background.<p>

She wonders if she can ever slice the strings Ty Lee has tied around her.

Despite her fear of the Princess, despite her father's shunning, despite her mother's death- Mai is happy. Azula is frightening at the best of times, but she also gives her a freedom that she has always coveted. Mai's shuriken fly around and away, the singing stone clatter in palace gardens a continuous melody.

Then she sees Prince Zuko.

He is very different from Azula, who is controlled flame at the best of times. Zuko is a blazing bonfire, burning fiercely and dying out quickly. Yet he is handsome, and kind, and Mai can't help the blush in her cheeks when he talks to them.

The day she sees him flush bright red when _he _sees _her _feels like solstice dawn… warm, bright, and bubbly.

* * *

><p>She is in the garden when Prince Ozai, Azula's father, and Princess Ursa, Zuko's mother, fight.<p>

They do not see her; she has hidden herself in the shadowed hollow of an oak tree. Quietly, she muses over the fact that Ozai has never been Zuko's father, and Ursa never Azula's mother. The parents have chosen their children; they have drawn the battle lines, and it will take a far stronger person than either Zuko or Azula to cross it. She watches as Ursa catches her husband's arm, hisses at him to stop.

"Zuko is my son," Ursa says defiantly. "And I cannot sit back and watch you kill him."

Ozai sneers. "You cannot stop me."

Mai watches with steadily rising horror as the prince and princess talk about Zuko's murder. Then Ursa whispers, hopeless, "You wish to be Fire Lord, Ozai."

Ursa is broken, now, eyes shadowed and shoulders slumped. Fighting for her son's life has drained her of her honor, and what she will state now is nothing more than what she is willing to give.

Except Mai can see how much she wishes she didn't have to.

She closes her ears, remembering her mother's words: "Do not listen to things you cannot handle."

And through the brilliant funeral pyre, her hands are clenching throwing stars tight enough to make them bleed. _Traitor! _She wants to yell to anyone who will listen. _Patricide _she wants to say, murderous eyes locking onto the newly crowned Fire Lord.

But she holds her silence, schools her face into an emotionless mask, and murmurs the same well-wishings of thousands before her.

As she walks away, each step echoes:

_Coward._

* * *

><p>Three years later, Zuko kisses her in the place where the last Fire Lord's death was planned.<p>

He smells of jasmine tea and smoke, and she can hardly bear to look at him when he smiles like that- all teeth and triumph and none of the kindness of his uncle. He looks like his father reborn, and she cannot kiss him back when all she can remember is- "History repeats itself."

Mai cannot be Ursa, not for all the gold in the world. She cannot be content with a small garden and a shadowed existence; she wants to shine on her own, not hang on her husband's arm and hope to reflect his.

Mai wants to be a sun, where Ursa was ever content with the moon.

She refuses to be party to what Ursa committed- regicide and patricide. Zuko's ambitions have never been as all-encompassing as his father's, but people change. And choosing between her husband, her loyalty, and her children is a choice she would not wish on her bitterest enemy.

Later that day, Zuko is burned and banished. She visits him in the hospital, in the dark of night, and watches him struggle limply against his curse. His father has branded him, and Mai is _thankful._

Thankful that the choice between royalty and loyalty is not one for today.

Then she is guilty that she is thankful, and all the confusion boils down into one thing. She thinks she might love this boy in front of her, and she is so, so terrified that he will turn into his father. She is not strong enough to hold onto him if he pushes her; she is too weak to hold onto her morals.

She is afraid that if she loves him too much, he will turn her into a monster.

But she slowly presses her lips against his, a chaste promise for better times. Her hands embrace Zuko, carefully not touching bare skin. Tears she cannot control- tears for a boy scarred _by his own father- _drip down onto his skin, and she doesn't wipe them away. If Zuko is truly banished forever, he deserves to see her remorse.

Turning, she walks away, but she cannot do so silently.

Pride will always be her downfall, she thinks wryly, between heartbeats. She returns to his bedside, and presses the knife he'd given her for her birthday into his hands. It is sharpened and gleaming; it shines in his hands like a true star and she wishes she could give him one.

_I would give you the universe, my Prince, if I could. But you are the one person I know who doesn't want it._

This time, she doesn't look back when she ghosts away.

* * *

><p>She is caged, now, a hawk with broken wings looking ever after into the endless sky.<p>

Mai wants freedom, but knows better than to take it. Even when Princess Azula comes, she is wary. But Azula holds no reserve, and pulls her after her into the chase of a lifetime.

Mai regrets every moment.

She doesn't want to be forgotten, but she doesn't want to die, either. She is caught between a rock and a hard place, and she wants to _leave. _Ty Lee holds her down, though, and Azula only releases the cage when she wishes to.

Dragon-gold eyes lock onto Zuko's form in Ba Sing Se; she watches sadly as he betrays his own uncle. She wants to ask him what he's _thinking, _his uncle gave him _everything _and he's throwing it away on the hope that his father will take him back.

_Fool, _she sneers at him for weeks.

But she takes him back, and tries to nurture him. Except… she is not so clean and golden herself; three years have tarnished her own ideals, and how can a wounded person be a healer? She is bleeding from her own blades, and Zuko is scarred from his father, and he wants to build a life for them out of the bloody ashes.

She laughs hard when he talks about a better life. She's fairly certain he'll never forgive her for that.

* * *

><p>She is waiting, and waiting, because Zuko has never been content with injustice. And whatever else has happened, he knows his uncle's imprisonment is unjust. She doesn't know what she's waiting for, but she's fairly certain she's got it when she sees the letter on his bed.<p>

She reads it with shaking hands and a deep-seated fury; the least he could have done was _tell her _he was going off somewhere stupid. As it is, she is lucky to have even read his missive. Azula and Ozai are jealous enough of their power that they'd prefer if she never saw him again.

* * *

><p>Boiling Rock.<p>

Her uncle is caught in Zuko's friend's hands. And she wonders what would happen if she acts. The only reason she lashes out, at first, is her uncle, she tells herself. Then the knives keep flowing, and all her helpless rage is being spent at the poor guards.

She glares defiance up at Azula's figure; she knows the end is near and that Zuko will never come back for her. Ty Lee is caught between a star and a sun, and Mai is not cold enough to ask her to choose. She has used up every last scrap of goodwill the spirits have ever given her.

_Perfection._

If she goes to her death, she will do it on her own terms.

But there is one thing, and she is glad. That even if she dies now, the last thing she thinks isn't _coward, _but _traitor._

She doesn't know when becoming a traitor meant being a good person, but she is glad that her loyalties have torn ragged. Ty Lee's strings have been sliced; Azula's power has been broken; Mai's honor has been restored. Even as Azula's blue fireball comes into view, she slides into her mother's stance- ready to attack or defend, as is necessary.

Shuriken gleam as she holds them. It is a losing battle, but a necessary one, nevertheless. Azula and Mai have been at odds for too long; the end of their friendship is here.

Then Ty Lee is stepping between them, and all Mai can think is that this isn't just cruelty but torture, because even _in_ _absentia_ Zuko can divide those who love him. And she gives in to the guards, because there is little else to hope for now. Ty Lee has chosen, and Azula has gone mad.

_I'm sorry, Princess. _Mai doesn't whisper as she's led away, chains around her arms and head held high. _But Zuko made me choose. And if nothing else, fear has corroded my respect for you. Put me in chains. Throw me in your dungeons. _Kill me. _You will not win this war. Ba Sing Se was a battle you barely won. Do you think you can beat Zuko when he is unwilling to play your games?_

And Mai walks away, and after _so very long, _she does so with no regrets and less remorse.

* * *

><p>She is released from the prison a few weeks later, and she walks to the Capital on her own two feet.<p>

It is a short walk- perhaps ten minutes at a dead run and an hour at a leisurely stroll. Mai walks slowly, letting the taste of freedom sink against her lips. Peach-rose trees are in blossom, and the sweetness saturates the air. She is reminded of Ty Lee, who she hasn't seen since they were chained. She hopes she is alright.

_So this is what hope feels like, _she thinks, content for the first time in her life. Worry and terror have ran through her body enough times in the past weeks that she feels only happiness now; it is a liberating feeling. _And this is what it tastes like._

Nobody stopped her when she stepped out of the prison and walked on her own two feet- though her glare _might _have had something to do with it. Now, she's closer to the Capital than she has been since she was imprisoned, and she wants to see Zuko. _Fire Lord, _they call him in the streets, a name tinged with both awe and hatred.

_Fire Lord, _they call her boyfriend. But Mai doesn't know if she wants to be Fire Lady.

So instead of walking to the palace, she takes another path- to the royal cemetery. Few people ever went there; it was rumored to be haunted by some of the cruelest people in living memory. Mai goes because it will be quiet.

She sees a marble headstone with black-curled wings that spread into the sky, and she walks over to the grave. Closing her eyes, she breathes.

She wants power, but not titles. She loves Zuko but hates his family. She wants to marry Zuko, but she knows it will never happen. Zuko is her first love. She _knows _that it will not, cannot last. The question is, is she willing to be happy for now?

When Mai turns around to look at the gravestone, and laughs bitterly when she reads the name.

_Sozin, Conqueror of Peoples, _it reads in elegant script. And he is the man she chose when confused.

Mai cries in the middle of an abandoned cemetery, amidst ashes and dust, on the grave of the most evil man in centuries. She wonders when her life has been damaged so irrevocably.

The nobles will push Zuko to marry another, someone who will solidify alliances with tradition… and Mai refuses to be a second wife. Fire Lords never marry another; neither do most nobles who respect their wives. Mai is just proud enough to refuse Zuko's suit, and just humble enough to hope for his hand.

Then she turns, dusts off the cemetery dirt, and walks steadily to the palace. She has made her choice. Zuko will not have a choice; Mai will not force him to choose. He will be her dalliance, her summer fling that the entire world knows about.

Except everyone knows that flings never last.

* * *

><p>Mai doesn't know when she began to keep secrets from Zuko.<p>

She doesn't feel regret or remorse because she knows that he is keeping secrets from her, too. Their relationship is more of one of mirrors and insubstance than love; it is a farce and she thinks that the only reason they haven't separated is a misguided sense of rebellion against all the people who told them they were incompatible.

They sleep in the same bed, but Zuko doesn't come to it until after midnight, and Mai doesn't push him to do so earlier. She is loving and supportive in public, but their kisses are cold and perfunctory.

Then a noble- Lord Kwan- arrives at the palace, and tells Zuko that he must now choose a wife. He leaves a list of noblewomen, and Mai is frightened for the first time. Because who knows how desperate these men are, attempting to control their Fire Lord, and what attempts they will take to control him?

Mai doesn't want to die, yet.

She is seventeen, after all. Not yet old enough to bear children. Not old enough, in fact, to choose a spouse.

She bows her head, and goes to speak with Zuko.

When she arrives, though, he is silently going through the list. He smiles, bittersweet, at her griefstricken look, and rises, embracing her tightly. For a long, spiraling moment, all Mai wants is to stay there, in Zuko's arms and safe from the world.

But the embrace comes to an end, and so does her feeling of safety.

She presses a kiss, light, against his lips. "I love you," she whispers, almost silent.

Zuko flashes her a smile, and the hard gleam of his teeth firms her resolve. "And I love you, Mai-"

"That's… I need- I love you, Zuko," Mai says in a rush. "But this- this _farce _of a relationship needs to end. I love you, but I don't think… I don't think you're ready. Or I'm ready." She smiles softly. "We're not ready."

"W-what!?" Zuko looks like she's socked him in the gut, and Mai doesn't need to pretend any pity for the lonely little boy before her.

She steps back. "Maybe if you weren't Fire Lord we could've waited, but…"

"Don't put this on me." Zuko says bitterly. Anger has replaced the shock quickly; quicker than she'd expected. The implied expectation of betrayal hurts something inside her.

"I'm not." She says levelly. "I'm giving you my reasons, Zuko. Believe it or not, you're the _Fire Lord. _That means you have a responsibility to your people. So- choose a proper Fire Nation girl, and be happy with her." A shrug that rustles shuriken-hiding cloth innocently. "I'm not going to make you choose."

Zuko looks so betrayed- so _furious- _that she wants to stop. She wants to tell him that she was wrong, nothing she'd said mattered. But… she loves Zuko. And making him choose between her and his country is not a choice she wants him to make. He'd made that choice once, and chosen his country.

Now, she's certain he'll choose her.

And if he does, she will lose him.

"Love…" Mai clears her throat and continues. "Love means choosing what's best for you. So… I'm choosing what's best for you, Zuko."

She smiles tightly, and walks away.

"Wait!" Zuko steps forward, hand outstretched. "Where will you go?" He looks sheepish and awkward, and she refuses to let her tears out when he can see them.

"To Kyoshi Island. Ty Lee invited me a couple weeks back."

"Oh."

A terse nod, and she's gone.

* * *

><p>Mai lied.<p>

Ty Lee doesn't know she's coming, and she's not going straight to Kyoshi Island.

All her life, she's been coddled and protected, cushioned and hidden. Now, she wants to experience _real _life. So she takes detours when she wants, drinks as much rice wine as she can, and eats the greasiest food she can find.

It is unexpectedly awesome, the freedom, and she doesn't want to go back to a life of sullen dryness _ever._

She steals bread, and has such a fun time escaping she buys a festival mask and does it again, and again, and again. The food she distributes among the poor, and the drink she peddles on the side.

But it is a week after the festival, and she can see the wary eyes of the commonfolk. They are cautious of strangers, and Mai doesn't want to leave yet.

The only way to remedy this is by becoming one of them.

So she buys a small cottage a few minutes' walk from the village square, and begins a smaller farm. A few chickens, a couple sheep… Mai might not be able to shear wool or have recipes passed down from her mother, but she's not completely hopeless.

Mixing poisons is a necessary ability for any noblewoman, and Mai's mother trained her well in that art. Cooking is far less dangerous, and far more fun. She begins a sort-of kitchen; farm-boys too small for the more dangerous tasks sent to her to shear wool or pluck chickens, and they get a good lunch or dinner in return.

Before she knows it, it is winter, and snowing.

The cold loneliness and silence plays havoc on her nerves; she dreams that Azula going to burn off her face, that Zuko, with his father's uncaring eyes and emotionless face, is hunting her down to be his bride, that her father is outside with a list of suitors twice her age and thrice her weight, telling her to choose. Mai knows that going off the radar and disappearing is not in her best interests. Sooner or later, Ty Lee will find out…

_And then this little village will become nothing more than a summer dream._

Mai isn't used to letting others dictate terms to her. But she wants to do something foolish, and here she isn't the dour faced traitor, or the silent shadow. She is the laughing young girl from nowhere, with a dry wit and an acerbic charm, and she is pretty, young, and single too.

Many try to woo her- she just isn't interested. Her seven-year long fling was just broken off, and she is not so much in mourning as in denial. She needs _time _to get used to the new life she's carved out for herself.

Finally, unable to take the loneliness, she sends notice that she is heading down south because of a family emergency. Those first days, trekking through wood and snow, all Mai wants is to return, to her small home and warm hearth.

But she grits her teeth, and moves on, to Kyoshi Island.

* * *

><p>Ty Lee is so cheerful it is grating.<p>

She flips her hair in a whole-bodied grin; she's balancing on her fingertips on top of Kyoshi's statue, and her precarious position is almost frightening. If Mai hadn't known about her knowledge of chi-paths and strength, she might have been worried for her friend. Instead, she flings a knife, watching smugly as it pierces Kyoshi's neck, exactly on her jugular.

Ty Lee leaps down lightly, hands embracing Mai carefully. She knows, better than anyone, the throwing stars hidden in Mai's sleeves. But better yet, she knows the bitter history Mai has with physical contact- Azula, her father, her stepmother…

They still hug, though Mai retreats as fast as socially possible.

"Come on!" She chirps into the rapidly-forming awkward silence. "I'll show you my home!"

Mai follows her, not because she wants to, but because she knows better than to refuse. All three of them- Azula, Ty Lee, and herself- have their limits. Crossing them is not a… good idea.

* * *

><p>Days later, Mai is practicing throwing her knives at a bulls-eye set up to help archers. It helps her aim and her strength, and she has been moving back consistently. Now, she is far enough that she needs to account for wind and it is far more difficult than she had imagined. Fighting on a battlefield is different; adrenaline slows the world down. On a practice field, one needs very different skills.<p>

Ty Lee bounces into the clearing with none of her cheerfulness, only anger.

"You broke up with Zuko?" She asks Mai indignantly.

Mai launches one last flurry of knives; watches them sink to the hilt in the bull's eye with no little amount of satisfaction.

Then she turns, slowly. She's been dreading this talk, and hoping it wouldn't come up… A vain hope, in the end. "Yes," she says, quietly.

"_Why?"_

Mai frowns. She hadn't expected this much helpless confusion- though she didn't know why. She shrugs carefully. "Zuko… He deserves someone more than me, Ty Lee. I can't… be what he needs. He needs someone to look after him; _care _only for him." She blinks deliberately. "You don't ask for a wounded person to heal others. I _can't _be what he needs. Maybe if we had a little more time…"

Ty Lee looks at her, then folds herself against the ground like a crane-swan settling down to sleep. "Maybe if you had a little more time you could what, Mai?" She asks softly.

"Maybe we could have stayed together."

"I'm sorry." Ty Lee wraps a hand around Mai's shoulders.

"Don't be." Mai swallows, hard. "It was my choice. I chose to leave Zuko, so he wouldn't have to make me leave. And I don't… I don't _like _what I did. But if I could go back, I would do the same thing."

Ty Lee smiles, like a rising sun. "When did you break things off, Mai?"

Mai recoils. "How did you-"

"His letters are dated a couple months back." She smiles happily, but the undercurrent of _don't underestimate me _is still there. "I'm guessing you stopped them from delivering it?"

Mai nods, eyebrows raised. "I didn't stop them, just… delayed it. When I was on my way here, I didn't think there was any reason to do so any longer."

Ty Lee tilts her head in a mockery of Azula's royal inclinations. "Well, I'm glad we had this talk! Now, tell me, are there any cute boys in that town of yours?"

"Ty Lee…" Mai groans.

* * *

><p>She returns to the village a month later, after much prodding from Ty Lee.<p>

She was right; Mai needs to go to court. Zuko's long married, but there are things shadows and courtiers and women can do that Fire Lords cannot. And Zuko needs all the help he can get. Mai won't leave loose ends here, not if she can help it.

She packs up her little cottage, though she refuses to sell it. Instead, she tells them that she's going to keep this until her family gets better, and walks out of the village at noon. Her flirting smiles and cheerful whistles are not going to fly at court.

So she relishes every moment of the freedom she has.

It feels like a gauzy curtain, surrounding her; liberty and freedom glittering from afar. But when they come too close, and catch and trip her up… That is when freedom becomes a chain.

And Mai has never dealt well with chains.

Her entrance into the Capital is understated elegance; the stones are violet-bleeding-blue when she walks in, and the lights of the Upper Ring- the Fire Nation Capital has its own 'proper' sector, like Ba Sing Se- gleam like so many twinkling constellations.

Mai wants to sweep up all the lights- _you hold the universe in your belly- _and yank them to herself. She wants this beauty to be _hers, _and hers alone- she wants the world to be a beauty and for her not to have to wallow in its filth. She wants so very many things…

Mai knows how hard it is to achieve even a single thing.

So her smile at Zuko holds nothing but demure elegance, and his high-blooded wife, with all her distrustful glares and simpering promises, is greeted with politeness.

* * *

><p>She wants to snap the stem of her wineglass at the party, but decorum and propriety holds her in place. The men she's danced with are ruthless backstabbers, all of them, and the women nothing more than trophy wives.<p>

And Zuko's picked the worst of the lot.

Asai is beautiful- long, black hair curls down to the small of her back, and she has the classical looks of a proper Fire Nation girl. Large honey eyes, a delicate nose, high cheekbones… Long legs, pale skin, thin figure. The only thing wrong with her is, in fact, her personality.

Ten minutes after meeting her, she is threatening to crack Mai's impassive mask. It is a far, far better time than Azula _ever _made, and it has everything to do with her shallow, irritating, _simpering _demeanor.

Each laugh is high and grating- oh, had she called Ty Lee that? She has to apologize; this woman is so grating it _hurts- _and her whispers sound staged- Mai never thought she'd miss Azula's chilling insults, but at least she was _good _at what she did. This girl… is just _bad._

But Mai can only grit her teeth and bear it, though she spends even more time at the practice courts to make up for it. Asai joins her after a few days, and while Mai wants to hiss, she orders- _orders!- _Mai to spar with her. The match lasts for all of a minute; Mai beats Asai decisively.

The girl might be a bender, but she is nowhere _near _a warrior.

Then Aang comes, and the girl ignores Zuko for the entire night.

Mai watches, ever more speechless with outrage, as the conniving little _bitch _tries to worm her way into Aang's good regards.

_Fine. _Mai thinks, after one too many slinking arms and fluttering lashes. _She wants to play? Let's _play.

Zuko is startled when Mai begins to speak flirtingly. It is unnatural, in this stifling room, for the both of them; too many memories, both good and bad, weight the events. Nevertheless, Mai flirts, and Zuko responds with the adorable awkwardness he'd always had.

Soon enough, the girl is defending Zuko vigorously. Mai retreats with a cat-like smile and a healthy appreciation for the girl's wit; if nothing else, she could be a diplomat.

An hour later, she is dancing, and the boy- _man- _dancing next to her is rather… uncomfortable. Mai has flirted with him when he knows she is Zuko's past... girlfriend?- nobody knows what they were, least of all Mai and Zuko- but he seems the most promising of all of them.

"Have you read Akira's Laws?" He asks abruptly, leaving her gaping. His smirk is superior and wicked, though, and she immediately recovers from her shock.

"Of course. What do you think of his ideas on spiritual immortality?"

The game is on, and his smile fades. They spend the rest of the dance debating philosophers across the floor, and Mai thinks her face will start to hurt from all the smiles she's given this night. Then he says such an unexpectedly acerbic remark...

And Mai, dour-faced Mai, _silent _Mai, throws her head back and laughs.

* * *

><p>The dance ends…<p>

And she refuses to let him leave. Her smirk is glittering in the crowded ballroom; it is a thing of wild nights and ferocious hunts and full moons, not of proper behavior and stuffy dances. He stills like a proper hunter in response, and she pins him to the floor with a wildly controlled look.

Shidang is startled and frightened by this woman in his arms.

She dances perfectly, but her words are like dripped honey, and he is too aware of politics to be _unaware _of how easily honey could be exchanged with poison. Her eyes are dragon's eyes, and her mien is threatening, but her hands are soft, and her words are inviting. Her dress and carriage is also a study in contradictions; he considers that he might have to spend forever to untangle just one such incongruity, and he is intrigued as much as repelled by her demeanor.

_Is this love? _Shidang wonders as he watches her swirl away amidst mulberry cloth and smoky black.

Her eyes lock onto him when she dances with another, and they seem to say, _Yes._

* * *

><p>Mai doesn't know why she spends time with this man-boy, but he is like a puzzle she cannot solve. Curiosity tugs her closer; wariness pulls her back.<p>

The only redeeming part of all this is that he must feel the same way.

So they partner, time and time again, and while Mai certainly doesn't flirt with only him, and she knows he doesn't kiss just her- a camaraderie and understanding is established, and Mai can only wait until it will become something more.

He doesn't mind that she wants to shine; she doesn't care that he leaves for months.

Their meetings are filled with acerbic comments, witty repartees, and stifled laughter. Friends and acquaintances alike exchange weary looks within a month of their continued conversations, and soon the dreaded question- _when will you marry?- _is passed around.

Mai doesn't tell him that she doesn't want to marry. In fact, she doesn't tell him much of anything at all. They talk about life and love, about old philosophers and new comedians, but nothing of their present life. It is like a pleasant deviation from the weariness of normal life- like a person they can be natural with, before responsibility and power separate them- the two are content for it to be that and nothing more.

But… Mai doesn't say that if Shidang _asked… _If he were to propose… Well. She might just say yes.

* * *

><p><em>Is this love? <em>She wonders, after a dizzying conversation on the presence- or absence- of philosophical truth in Lao-ru's teachings. His warm hand, pressed against hers, tingles and sparks like Azula's lightning. It says, in a language only the two of them can understand:

_Yes._

And for perhaps the second time in her life, Mai does something impulsive, with no thought to the consequences.

She leans forward, and catches Shidang's lips in her own.

The world narrows to Shidang alone; Mai hears, as if from far away, her own gasp when he winds a hand through her hair. He hasn't leapt back at her actions, but responded favorably… Mai doesn't care that she is alone in the world. Shidang has kissed her back, and she wants to burn the world into a memorial at his feet. She will carve a silver, mirror-gilted, star-edged monument to his memories… She will give him everything she has and more, because he has melted her heart where once it was stone.

She breaks away from him, looking up, up, up at his face. This close, she can see the flecks of blue in his gold eyes, like sunset on a still lake, and the dilation of his pupils. The shock carved into his face almost makes her laugh; it is only when she feels the warmth on her waist that she realized he had moved closer.

He smells of pepper and cinnamon; when she kisses him, he tastes like lily-apples and chilled water. The incongruity steals her breath, and all she wants is to understand the mystery, unravel the contradiction.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Mai breathes, hands fluttering against his arms like little white doves.

Shidang exhales sharply, and smiles wickedly at her shiver. "Why not?" He asks quietly, twining himself closer to her. "Don't you want to?"

What she _wants _is to think. She wants a moment of freedom, where blessedly cool air can fill her lungs; not the blazing hot, dried kind she can't get enough of now.

He takes her hesitance for an answer, and captures her in another kiss, one that sears away any reservations she might have had.

* * *

><p>Their marriage is at dusk, a year to the hour since she stepped foot into the Capital.<p>

The courtyard is drenched in starlight; the nights are long this time of year. A brisk wind picks up, and all the guests shiver, but the two at the altar look only radiant in their cloth.

Mai has eschewed the traditional uchikake kimono, for a simpler gown, edged in silver and woven with gold. The gown reveals her knives usually hidden, and the mirrors reflect the light like a thousand pieces of diamonds. It is a brilliant red silk, and she shines under the night sky like a goddess unbound.

Shidang wears a formal kimono; his subdued coloring only highlights Mai's brilliance. Despite her family's glares and Shidang's prolonged absences, both have found a way to make this work, and love each other…

* * *

><p>Zuko gazes at the girl-woman he had once hoped would be his wife, and smiles sadly. She is beautifully bright here, shining from her own happiness and light, and the adoring look she sends at her newly-wedded husband is nothing short of incandescent.<p>

Zuko remembers the bitter, selfish, _lonely _little girl he'd met so many years ago. She has grown and blossomed; he thinks that maybe he'd seen her potential all those years ago.

But that would be a lie, because he knows, even if his failure now is too bitter and her victory salt in his wounds, that he would only have held her back; he would have broken her wings and chained her potential and if he'd done so he doesn't know if he could have forgiven himself, much less asked her to.

So he kisses her on the cheek with nothing resembling regret, and shakes Shidang's hand with all the congratulations he can muster.

* * *

><p>Their children are beautiful, Mai thinks fondly, as she watches the little twins dance under the sky. There is laughter and screams echoing up from the lower levels, but she has stayed in her study to finish penning a few letters.<p>

Ty Lee has not yet married; she is perennially single and happy to remain that way. Of all of them, Mai thinks distantly, it is Zuko who has been hurt the most. His wife hates him, and his children barely know him. It seems that history is bound to be repeated once more, in the royal family, and while Mai loves Zuko- even after twenty years, her first love has only dimmed, not died- she cannot, maybe will not, interfere. She has broken herself out of that shadow, and the truth she has offered herself, the proof that _change is possible _is greater than anything else she could have wanted.

She keeps her silence and her distance from court because she has no wish to be embroiled in dirty politics. Instead, she is Zuko's silent shadow, one who ghosts through the night and enforces his will where he cannot or will not.

Zuko doesn't know this; he thinks that he is simply sending complaints to her in his letters.

Mai doesn't stop this thinking, and instead smirks gleefully as she disembowels a man.

Verbally, of course.

The younger Mai had wanted to rule over the Fire Nation. The older Mai knows that ruling is not what the tales make it out to be, and power is as much responsibility and altruism as self-indulgence. She is content with what she has now- children and a loving husband at day, a nocturnal job that leaves traitors and fools terrified for their lives.

Rising slowly- her back has been cramping lately, but she will not stop her activities, not if she has anything to say about it- she folds the last letter up, and walks down to her husband. He embraces her with his eyes, before shoving off the newest problem the terrible twins have _inevitably _created.

Mentally rolling her eyes, Mai drags them out to the sunlit courtyard, and glares down at them.

Before she says anything, though, she looks up at the home and life she's carved out for herself, a palace from the ashes, and smiles like an immortal phoenix.

_Perfection. At last._

_Are you proud, mother?_

* * *

><p><strong>Well... After a couple weeks, I'm back. This fic was a... shock, in many ways, because I had no idea it would become this big, or this long. Honestly, I wanted to do another thousand-word drabble, as part of my Fire Lady series, and keep it that way. Instead, it quickly became 3000 words, then 6000, until this length of 8500 words.<strong>

**Now to answer some questions I'm sure are going to come up:**

**1. I _love _Maiko. I actually ship it far more than Zutara (which I patently dislike) but it just didn't work for me. In my experience- which is not _unexperienced- _first loves don't often last for very long. Sometimes, they do. But even then, most of the time, the marriage isn't a happy one. To be married, I firmly believe, one needs maturity, and empathy, which one often doesn't get until early 20s at _earliest. _****Zuko is also an abused child. Perhaps not physically, but neglect _is _a form of abuse. And Ozai, as characterized in canon, doesn't not only ignore Zuko, he _pays more attention _to Azula. Quite similar to Harry Potter/Dudley Dursley, this is not a healthy relationship. Honestly, I'm surprised Zuko was as sane as he was. Also, Mai is abused, too, at least in my fic... And when two abused children come together, it usually doesn't work out.**

**2. Pain-bones is fibromyalgia, a very painful psychosomatic disease that is characterized by depression. It actually doesn't kill on its own, usually, but often leads to susceptibility to other diseases. Somehow, I doubt the Avatar-verse had its own antidepressants...**

**3. Shidang means, in some translator I came across, 'proper'. I thought it was a good name for Mai's husband:)**

**And I titles this 'Perfection' because I felt that, at first, it was something Mai was reaching towards; I hope I was able to deliver that by the end she knows better than to expect that...**

**Also, I'm reposting this a couple days later after a few minor changes (commas, names, dividers) and hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone. I have also changed the author's note a little.**

**Hope that answers some questions; PM me if you have any more!**

**Reviews inspire me.**

**-Dialux**


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